Loss of Control
by kaeje
Summary: Hermione is facing the breaking point. How much longer can she go on living a charade? Her life begins to spiral out of control and she finds herself further and further away from where she started. WARNING: cutting, abuse, rape etc. (DHr) [WiP]
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

She was perched upon the highest point that she could find. Feeling the wind whip through her being, she was enveloped in a strange calm that she hadn't felt in many years. She thought back to the last time that she had been truly happy. Thinking, she knew it was three years ago, during her fourth year. The three of them had been so happy and carefree; the only worry in their minds was how well Harry would perform in his final task. But things could change so much in three years, they had changed so much over only the past few months. And now here she was, alone and miserable in her final year at what she once saw as her home – her sanctuary – atop the lonely Astronomy Tower.

She shivered in the wind, her robe long since discarded during her ascent to the tower. It was late May, and she did not wear a sweater. The breeze ripped at the buttons fastening her blouse, the sleeves rippling around her wrists. Softly, she began to stoke the forearm of her left arm and traced delicate patterns across the milky white material.

Slowly rolling up the cloth of her sleeves, she continued to caress the broken skin on her arm. Smiling reminiscently, she gazed down at the marred surface a smile playing across her lips. She could see the imprint of every scar, all of the delicate white rivers that wound their way up her arm, bending and twisting, interconnected. She switched arms, and began following the patterns – so similar – on her opposite arm. So much fresher they were in her memory, the crust of red still there, few having faded away to white slivers of skin. She traced the bloody rivers up her arm, and grazed her fingers across the black mark that looked seemingly like their source. She idly traced around the edges of the image, a small chuckle escaping her lips. It bubbled out from her, crazed, high pitched, and was soaked up by the night.

Her eyes glittered, and she brought her fingers down, pressing the nails deeply into her flesh, dragging them down her arm. They could not cut her, but behind them was left a bright pink trail. The faint tingle of the pain barely registered in her mind, it had so long been void of all emotion. She smiled in sadistic pleasure as she saw the not yet healed markings begin to bleed anew. Pressing a finger up against the pool that formed just below the haunting black mark, she watched in fascination as the red trickles blossomed out across her finger, filling the small crevasses of her finger print. But then the beauty of it was gone, as more blood trickled forth coating her finger in its substance. Rubbing two fingers together, the metallic fluid drying, and was rolled into tiny balls, brushed from her fingers.

Again she began to trace the patterns on her left arm, remembering the story behind every cut. Like a fond childhood memory, she could recall each detail that coincided with every alteration she made to her flesh. And they all culminated in the blackness on her other arm. The still red marks were just the beginning of a new chapter.

She slowly moved her finger across the smallest of all the cuts, just to the left on the inside of her wrist. Barely three centimeters long, she smiled at the memory of the first time she indulged herself in the twisted pleasures that had so easily wound their way into her everyday life. It seemed only yesterday that she had so hesitantly held the trembling piece of metal above her flesh. She could still remember the euphoria of bliss that coursed through her body the first time she felt the blade slice through her skin. With a smirk, she remembered the way she had been mortified at her actions only a few seconds later.

What a long way she had come since that very first day. As much as it seemed only like yesterday, it also felt as if it had happened ages ago, not only just six months prior. Staring wistfully off into the cloud shrouded sky; she continued her loving strokes of her arm.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

To the other Gryffindors in the Common Room that November evening, it would have appeared like any other. Hermione was sitting in a corner of the room, books, notes, pieces of parchment, strewn across the table in front of her. Lazily collapsed on the floor beside her sat Ron and Harry who were enveloped in a game of Wizard's Chess.

"Are you almost done yet Herm?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn as he did so. "I'd like to rewrite it with the revisions before I go to bed tonight."

Hermione didn't reply, her hands gripping tightly in the mass of brown hair that hung about in a sea of wild bushiness. Yanking at her scalp until she could feel the soft burning sensation spread across comfortingly, she stared down at the essay that she was suppose to be correcting for her friend. Above his messy scrawl, she could see the neat writing of her own, crowding in the small spaces he left above each line for this purpose. Grabbing the parchment and ignoring the desperate urge she had to crumple it into a ball with her fist, she thrust it onto the ground where he lay. To her dismay – or perhaps relief – the angry action went unnoticed.

He smiled up at her, his bright eyes twinkling. "Thanks a lot Hermione, you're a lifesaver."

She smiled sadly back at him, sighing quietly to herself at how easily she allowed a smile and fond look from his emerald orbs, or Ron's own chestnut ones, to twist her into doing anything for them. When they first came desperately to her, begging for her expert advice with an essay that was due the next day, one she finished a week ago, she wanted to do nothing but laugh in their faces. She wanted to laugh mercilessly at them and walk away. She clenched her fist, the nails digging into her palm, as she thought how amazing the feeling would be. But every time they smiled at her, looked at her with those eyes, she bent and relented.

Winding her hands back into her tresses, Lavender Brown's voice cut into her thoughts. She remembered the small girl coming up to her, a look of amusement on her eyes as she caught Hermione the night before, it coming upon one in the morning. She was still working at revisions to another of her essays, having put it aside to help the boys.

"_Don't you ever get tired of it?" Lavender asked with a smile, and tone of amusement. _

"_Of what?" Hermione asked, darkly, sending a glare up at the girl, who either didn't notice or ignored it._

"_Of working all the time," she replied still smiling. "Don't you ever want to just push it all away and go out and have **fun**?"_

"_Fun is a foreign term to me," Hermione muttered, relieved when the girl finally abandoned her attempts and walked away, shaking her head, up to the dorms._

"_Don't you ever get tired of it?" _ It rang through her head like the pealing of bells on church day. She looked down at Harry, his essay tossed carelessly to the side as he continued on with his game. It hovered just next to her foot, and she had to tense her muscles to ignore the impulse to reach down and rip it to shreds.

This time it was Ron who looked up, although he was oblivious to Hermione's tensed up state. "Have you finished mine yet 'Mione?" he questioned, his eyes glued back to the game. "I'd like to go to bed soon too." He gave her a lopsided grin, before immersing himself with the game again.

She felt like giving him a great kick in the stomach as he lay sprawled out there. Flashing through her mind she could see him doubled over in agony as she grabbed at the parchments and books in front of her, ripping paper, throwing books, yelling. She could picture the shocked looks on their faces, the curious glances and blatant staring of the other students. She could see the pair of them whispering hushed urgencies at her, trying to stop the scene she was causing.

"_Don't you ever get tired of it?" _Of course she was tired of it! She was sick of spending her afternoons alone in her dorm doing her own papers as they roomed about the grounds laughing, or flying about the Quidditch Pitch. She hated spending her evenings cooped up in the library or common room. She would fish through books and hastily correct the multitudes of mistakes that filled their writing that was scrawled in a matter of minutes. She was tired of the fact that they expected her to do their own work. She was sick of the fact that she was nothing to them but a person help them coast through life. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Ron Weasley the Boy Who Lived's best friend, both of which were incredibly charming, good looking, and extremely popular to the ladies. She was sick of the fact that they seemed to have so much time to go romping around with the girls of Hogwarts, but had no time for the one girl, who when it came down to it, would **die **for them.

Hermione mentally scolded herself for thinking such thoughts. _'They would die for you as well,'_ she told herself. _'Would they?'_ another voice in her mind spoke up. '_Would they really be willing to die for you? You're nothing to them; they can easily find another brainy witch to solve their problems. What about Padma Patil? She could easily be as intelligent as you, and she is beautiful as well. They don't need you. They only pity you, for without them you would have no one.' _Hermione had to choke back tears at the harsh realization that her conscious came up with. _'NO!'_ screamed the other voice. _'Harry and Ron would never be like that.'_

She shook herself violently, scattering the voices that floated through her head.

"Herm, are you OK?" piped up Ron from the floor. "You're really pale, and you're shaking like mad." His eyes were flooded with concern, and Hermione wanted to retch at the thought of what had just been going through her mind moments before.

Looking down at her right hand, she could she it shaking as her clung to her quill. "I'm fine," she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "I just need to go to bed."

Ignoring the two sympathetic nods that her statement received, she thrust Ron his essay. Without bothering to gather her things, she turned and swiftly made her way to the stairs leading up towards her dormitory.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered to Harry as she disappeared from sight. "She didn't correct a thing!"

Finally reaching the solitude of her room, she was pleased to find it empty. The night was not young, but it was still too early for the others to be making their way to bed. She didn't bother to wave her wand and ignite the lamps, preferring the comforting blanket of the dark instead. As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she could see the room was in upheaval, the contents of Lavender's trunk had been strewn about the room as if a hurricane had passed through. The girl was definitely not an organized one, but this was by far the worst.

Kicking off her shoes, Hermione padded softly towards the door to the bathroom. Just as she was about to step inside, a glistening object caught her eye, the silvery metal catching in the moonlight that streamed in through the open curtains. Her foot hovered over the object for a few moments, until she returned it back to the ground and stooped to pick up the piece of metal.

Softly running her fingers over the edge, she recognized it to be a Muggle razor blade. Thinking back to the many conversations between her roommates, she could distinctly remember Parvati berating Lavender incessantly about how she insisted on shaving the Muggle way, instead of the easier magical method. Carelessly, Hermione tossed the blade onto the nightstand next to the closest bed – her own – and continued on into the washroom.

Returning to the room a few minutes later, she felt no better after splashing her face with cold water. Decidedly, she tossed herself onto her bed fully clothed, and began to rub her temples, her eyes closed.

'_What have they ever done to you to make you think such cruel hateful things,'_ she thought. _'They are great friends to you, and yet you think nothing but cruelties towards them._' A solitary tear made its way down Hermione's cheek, leaving a glistening trail behind. As it hovered, perched on the corner of her mouth, she reached out tentatively with her tongue, and caught it. She could taste the slight saltiness blossom out across her tongue.

Her eyes darted open as she choked back a sob. _'Why am I such a horrible, hateful, spiteful person?' _ That was when it caught her eye again, its metallic surface winking at her in the moonlight. Picking up the tiny blade from where it lay on her night table, she again ran her thumb lightly over the surface.

Grasping the end tightly in one hand, her mind went blank as it hovered over her skin. Without a thought, she pressed it deeply in, just above the left side on her left wrist, and watched in wonder as the redness of her blood seeped around the blade's edges. Slowly she pulled it further up her arm, mesmerized as she left behind a sticky red trail.

But then Hermione came to her senses, and quickly dropped the razor, it falling with a dull ring back onto the wooden surface of the table. She wrapped her small hand around her wrist, desperately trying to press the fluids back into her body. The dull sprinkling of pain barely registered in her mind as she panicked at the thought of what she had just done to herself.

'_You deserve it,'_ the mean voice in the back of her mind spoke up. _'You deserve only pain for what you have thought about doing.'_

Still clutching her arm, left with a dull throbbing sensation, Hermione fell back into the pillows of her bed, wracking sobs overtaking her body. Slowly, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep, her hand never leaving the now dried track of blood that made its way up her arm. Although she tossed and turned relentlessly that night, she never stopped clutching it with fervor, waking with blossoming yellow and blue bruises snaking their way around the tiny bony area.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

She thanked the Gods that it was Saturday. Looking at the tiny wristwatch that hung limply off her right wrist, she saw that she had missed breakfast; as was the case on most weekend mornings. Running her thumb over the red mark left from the night before, she grimaced at the throb of her bruises. But she felt renewed, forgiven of the bitterness she had succumbed to. The blood that had trickled forth had washed away her sinful thoughts, and she felt forgiven.

She started as there was a tapping on the window pane. A plain brown school owl hovered in the air outside, and she made her way to let it in. Impatiently it hopped about on the windowsill, one leg thrust into the air waiting for her to remove its burden.

Hermione hardly noticed as the owl soared back out the window. She slowly unraveled the string around the letter, and carefully smoothed out the creases. Her brows knit together and she slightly squinted while reading it. A low growl emitted from deep in her throat as she cast the paper down onto her bed. Standing there, staring at the incriminating note she reached out, picking it up again before savagely ripping it in half, then in half again and again. With a slightly muffled screech, she tossed the shreds across the room, and watched as they lightly fluttered to the ground. But she was not satisfied. Grabbing the glass that sat beside Parvati's bed, she hurled it across the room smiling in satisfaction as it crashed and broke apart upon impact with the stone wall.

'_Why is my best never good enough for them?'_ her mind screamed. _'When did my accomplishments become so trivial to them? When did they stop caring?' _Her mind begged for answers. She could remember her youth, sitting side by side with her father as he grilled her for answers the night before a big test. She remembered the joy in their eyes when she came home with an 'A'. She could still remember the day that she had noticed that the light was no longer there, that the fact she got another 'A' didn't really matter to them. She could remember the day she put on fake tears, and told them she failed. _"As long as you try your best darling," _was all her father could say. And she could remember the sad shake of their heads when she hurled the paper at his face – the one with a sickly red 'A' scrawled across the top – and stormed from the room.

'_When did I become such a disappointment?'_

This time the pain seared as she drew the red line; but she didn't care. She didn't notice the blood dripping on the floor, or how it seeped through the white shirt she pulled on. She didn't notice how this time she just couldn't stop, until her arm was raw, and she was breathless. And as she pulled on her dark school robes and ran panting from the room, she didn't notice the dark stain that crept across the fabric.

Hermione didn't stop running until she was half way around the lake. She came to a stop when she had passed the last of the students who had decided to spend the last warm autumn day outside. She narrowed her eyes against the yellow of the sun, its brightness mocking her. Hermione began to walk, slowly this time, her back to the lake, winding her way through the few trees that made up the outskirts of the forest.

As Hermione heard a rustling coming from behind her, she stiffened, her fists clenching her wand. She heard a voice muttering softly.

"_Imperious."_


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Slowly, being moved by a separate force, she turned around. Standing over her loomed Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, smug looks of amusement flickering across their faces.

"Look what we've found, Zabini," Malfoy chuckled.

"We've caught us a Mudblood," Zabini replied, tipping his head back and laughing uproariously.

Hermione was shocked as Malfoy moved his wand, and caused her to slowly sink to her knees on the muddy ground, followed by her hands, so that she was crouched on all fours like an animal.

"What do you want, Malfoy," she asked softly, head bowed.

She could feel him smirking at her. "What do I want, Granger? Well, to start off you will call Zabini and I Master from now on."

"Yes, Master," she choked out against her will.

She could hear Zabini laughing again, it echoing out across the lake. Then the two of them pushed past her, leaving Hermione in the mud. With a flick of his wand when he passed her, Malfoy had Hermione trail behind them, crawling on hands and knees trying to frantically keep up with their pace. She didn't know how long she followed them. Ten minutes, thirty minutes, maybe only five. But the seconds were swallowed up while her dirty palms grew raw, and her robes tore through the knees and along the bottom from catching on roots.

Finally it was over, and they stopped walking in a small clearing somewhere within the forest. She collapsed to the ground, her breath coming out in puffs, sending up bits of dirt as she lay panting.

"What do you want from me, Malfoy?" she asked the blonde Slytherin again.

"Wand," he commanded, holding out his hand and grabbing the slim piece of wood she handed over.

Hermione turned her head to the side, and strained to see the pair of boys out of the corner of her eye. She saw Malfoy give Zabini a slight nod, before pulling his wand away from her, severing the spell that bound her.

Before she could make a move to stand he spoke, "if you disobey us, Mudblood, you'll just find yourself under Imperious again – or worse. Do you understand?"

She managed to pull herself up onto her knees, her elbows threatening to give out from under her. She raised her head defiantly, staring directly at him. She could just notice his expression flicker for a second. He could see the pain and defeat written in her eyes. Without breaking her gaze, he held out a hand to Zabini, who promptly placed two pill-like objects in his palm. Finally looking away from her, he threw his head back and swallowed whatever the substance was, before sinking down to sit cross-legged in the grass beside her. She turned just in time to see Zabini mirror his actions.

Bafflement surfaced on her face as she looked questionably at Malfoy. Her mouth was slightly agape, as Zabini handed him another pair of the pills. Malfoy responded by pulling Hermione's face closer to his, and by applying pressure against the joints of her jaw, forced her mouth open. She was frozen in fear as he pushed the pills inside. Malfoy allowed her to close her mouth, but made sure to tip her head back and massage her throat before he was satisfied that they had gone down.

After sitting stone still for the whole ordeal, she suddenly began to scramble backwards away from him.

"What have you given me, Malfoy?!" she exclaimed in panic.

"I thought he told you to call us Master," Zabini cut in, amusement written on his face.

She looked back at Malfoy, pleading silently with him. "Well you heard right, Granger," he responded, head cocked slightly to the side, studying her, waiting for her to break.

Taking in a deep breath she went along with it. "What have you given me, Master?" Her head bowed to the ground in shame, not wanting to look upon him and see the smug expression her would no doubt be wearing.

"Good little Mudblood," he laughed. "But you won't have to know what that is – couldn't have you go find someone else to give it to you now could I?"

"Too right, Draco," Zabini piped up. "Can't go losing us our business."

Hermione's mind finally clicked. "Drugs..." she whispered quietly.

But not quietly enough. Bringing his hands together Malfoy clapped twice for her. "Very good, Granger, 10 points for Gryffindor."

Panic overtook Hermione, not knowing what they could have given her. She scrambled to her feet as quick as possible.

"OI!" called out Zabini as he noticed Hermione looking like she would make a break for it.

Malfoy got to his feet quickly too. "Now, Granger, what are you going to do without your wand?" he said, twirling the stick between two fingers. "We're in the forest, who knows what sort of creatures you might come upon."

"Give me my wand, Malfoy," she growled softly between clenched teeth, walking slowly towards him.

"Excuse me, Mudblood?" he said, a fake look of shock on his face. "But I didn't hear the magic M word there."

She glared pointedly at him. "Give. Me. My. Wand. Mal-"

But she never got to finish her request because suddenly her body stopped working and everything went numb. With a bit of a surprised "oh..." she fell forward, just being caught by a flabbergasted Malfoy.

Her vision had gone blurry, but she could feel him lowering her body to the ground. Releasing her a few inches above the earth, he dropped her and caused her head to bang painfully against a stone. Slowly she could feel a familiar warmth slightly cushioning her head.

"Fuck, Malfoy," Zabini was saying. "She's passed out now you dolt."

"So?"

"So, there's no fun to be had when she is like this. Why would you give her two pills? It's obviously her first time." Zabini was sounding increasingly more upset at Malfoy.

"Oh sod off, Blaise; her being passed out makes things so much easier."

Hermione's brain was still working, even if her body wasn't. Panic overtook her, and she began to breathe heavily and quickly in fear. This seemed to catch the attention of the boys.

"Oi, I think she can hear us," Malfoy observed. "Granger, if you can understand what we are saying, err-"Malfoy couldn't think of anything.

"Hold your breath for a moment," interjected Blaise.

She originally thought to elude them into thinking she couldn't hear them, but was afraid what they might discuss thinking she couldn't hear. Gasping for as much air as she could, she tried to hold her breath for as long as possible. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it seemed to be enough to convince them.

She thought she could hear Malfoy laughing quietly.

"Well that means she can't fight back – but will remember everything," he remarked, sounding positively elated.

"What are you planning on doing to her, Draco?" Zabini asked.

"I think you know, Blaise."

Hermione tried to crane her neck to see where they were, her vision beginning to clear slightly. She was hoping to be able to catch some sort of facial expressions. But although she could see now, her body still refused to cooperate, and she could only make do with listening.

"You sick fuck, Malfoy," Blaise said disgusted.

"Oh get over yourself, Zabini," Malfoy said in exasperation.

"No, Draco," he replied. "I'm not going along with this. I'm going back to the castle. Come find me when you're done with this insanity."

Malfoy moved slightly and was now in Hermione's sight. She could hear Zabini moving around, and assumed he was leaving. Hermione watched as Malfoy smirked at him, giving him a mocking little salute as his footsteps disappeared off into the forest. She looked up at him, not bothering to hide the fear in her eyes.

'_What is Malfoy going to do with me now? Why did Zabini have to leave?'_ she thought fervently.

She could see Malfoy standing next to her on her right side. She squinted up trying to see his face, but her vision was still slightly blurry. Then he was on her left side. Hermione was confused. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Suddenly he was gone from her sight. But then he was looming over top of her. She began to panic, not knowing what was going on.

It felt as if the wind was caressing the skin of her arms and chest. But how could that be when she was wrapped up in her cloak? Soft fingers were touching the bare skin on her arms, she felt someone tracing the red lines that snaked their way up her left arm. Hermione shivered at the sensation. Her mind couldn't register what was happening. She could barely feel the buttons of her blouse popping off as hands ripped it open. Hermione felt a warm wetness on her chest just above her left breast, but then it was punctuated by a shot of pain as his teeth sunk into her flesh.

She tried to cry out, but no sound left her throat. Then the hands and mouth were gone. Finally she found herself able to raise her head up. Malfoy was standing a few feet away from her, unbuckling his belt and pushing down his pants and boxers. She had to squint to make anything out; her vision was foggy. Was he coming towards her?

Hermione tried fervently to push herself up into a sitting position, but hands were placed on her shoulders pushing her back to the ground. She tried to push him away, but Malfoy captured her wrists and pinned her hands above her head. She was still too weak to fight back, and he held her securely with one hand.

She could feel her skirt getting pushed up higher around her waist. A cold hand was touching the inside of her thighs. She heard the fabric of her knickers rip, and a rush of cool air hit her centre. Hermione felt his weight on top of her, and something hard was pushing up against her stomach. He slid himself along her a few times before finding his mark. Suddenly she felt him thrust forward violently. Pain wracked her body as he entered her. Hermione tried to cry out in protest, but her world went black.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"What do you think happened to her?" a voice whispered softly.  
  
"I have no idea," a lower one answered.  
  
Hermione's eyelids flickered slightly as she tried to place the two voices. Slowly she opened her eyes, the scene around her still hazy with sleep.  
  
"Ron? Harry?" she murmured. She could the scraping of chairs as the two boys pulled themselves closer to her bedside. "Where am I?" she asked furrowing her brow in confusion.  
  
She felt one of them take her hand. Squinting up, she could make out the raven hair and green eyes of Harry looking down at her in concern. "You're in the Hospital Wing, 'Mione," Harry said.  
  
"What?" she murmured groggily.  
  
"You were attacked," Harry said softly. "We found you yesterday afternoon, and you have been out cold ever since."  
  
_'Attacked?'_ she wondered, before dismissing the thought. "What time is it?" Hermione asked.  
  
"It's about midmorning, Sunday," Harry replied promptly.  
  
She could see the red of Ron's hair bobbing beside him. It was dark in the room and she was having trouble making out their faces.  
  
"Is what Malfoy said true?" Ron asked her.  
  
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Err - what did Malfoy say?" she asked tentatively.  
  
Harry sighed beside her and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "He said you lured him into the forest. He said you were taunting him, saying he was too afraid to enter. He supposedly went after you, afraid something might happen in there," Harry's voice was rising as he spoke, apparently getting angry at what Malfoy had said. "Next, Malfoy said he lost sight of you. Then just as you came into view he saw a shadow swing down from the trees and push you to the ground. He said he sent a Stunning Spell at the creature, but it just bounced off. But it was scared enough to scuttle away. Then he picked you up and carried you back to the castle. We found him just as he was entering Hogwarts."  
  
Ron looked at her with concern. "Did that rat really save your life?"  
  
Hermione was still trying to digest Malfoy's story. She couldn't really remember what had happened, only bits and pieces. "Err.." she started, memories coming back to her. She remembered the Imperious Curse, the pills, Zabini and Malfoy's fight, hands everywhere and then blackness. Hermione couldn't admit to them what had happened to her. She was the smartest witch at Hogwarts; she could take care of herself. "More or less," she admitted bowing her head.  
  
She heard Ron expel a breath. "McGonagall said that if it was you'd get a detention for going into the forest. Malfoy got off the hook because he made it seem like he was the hero," Ron was livid with rage at the thought.  
  
"Is what he said the whole story?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione thought fast, she couldn't let Malfoy off when she was stuck with a detention. "Well," she began, trying to stall for more time. "Err - he was the one who dared me to go in first. I don't remember how the fight started though. So I went just into the forest, and said he didn't have the guts to follow me." She began to speak faster as a story formed in her mind, "So he one-upped me and went further in. It just went back and forth like that. Then the last thing I remember is a sharp pain and darkness."  
  
"You looked horrible when we saw you, Hermione," Harry remarked. "You had no robes on, and the top half of your blouse had been ripped open," he began to blush. "You had a terrible bruise on your chest, as well as one around your wrist. There was a gash on the back of your head and cuts all up your left arm."  
  
"Are you sure Malfoy wasn't the one hurting you?" Ron said with a look of disbelief.  
  
Hermione shook her head, wincing as pain shot through her at the sudden movement. "Malfoy isn't that cruel, Ron."  
  
She lied easily to them - it was only a half lie anyway. The cuts on her arm and bruises on her wrist she had inflict upon herself. And Malfoy hadn't purposely cut her head.  
  
"Of course I'm not that cruel," a voice drawled from the doorway.  
  
Their heads shot up at the sound of his voice. Harry and Ron's eyes narrowed in rage at the obnoxious blonde Slytherin.  
  
"Of course," Malfoy continued, "I'd have to touch that filth to do something like that."  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry growled.  
  
Malfoy merely began to examine his fingernails leisurely. "I came to talk to Granger, perhaps get a thank you for saving her life. Oh, and McGonagall wants to see you two."  
  
"Whatever you have to say to Hermione you can say in front of us," Ron said boldly, standing up.  
  
Hermione, still lying in bed, gulped audibly. "It's OK, Ron, Harry. Malfoy doesn't have the guts to do anything."  
  
"Are you sure?" Harry asked looking back at her with a look of concern on his face.  
  
She nodded back, forcing herself to smile reassuringly at him. Harry still looked doubtful, but he relented. The two boys gathered up their things and made their way towards the door.  
  
Harry sent a look of contempt back at Malfoy as he passed him. "We'll tell McGonagall the whole story, Hermione," he said glaring at the Slytherin. "He'll get what deserves - don't worry."  
  
When Hermione heard the Hospital door close after her friends left, she almost exploded in rage.  
  
"Thank you for saving my life?!" she cried. "I wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for you!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you doing here anyway?"  
  
Malfoy shrugged at her and casually took a seat in one of the chairs by the end of her bed. "I just wanted to make sure you went along with the story." He looked pointedly at her. "I could make your life a lot worse if you messed things up."  
  
Hermione let out a hollow laugh. "Don't worry, I went along with your lie. Except I modified it so you don't come out looking like such a hero. If I'm going down, you're coming with me."  
  
He looked at her in amusement. "So you didn't want to admit how helpless you truly are to Potty and the Weasel. I'm not daft, Granger, I know those marks on your arms aren't from some wild animal."  
  
Subconsciously she pulled her arm close to her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said looking away from him.  
  
Malfoy let out a snort of amusement. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Mudblood. So it turns out Little Miss Perfect isn't so perfect after all," he remarked cocking his head at her.  
  
"This is none of your business, Malfoy," she snarled at him. "If you breath a word of this to anyone, I will tell the Headmaster exactly what happened in the forest, no matter how helpless I look." Malfoy just nodded his head mockingly at her. "Get out!" she screamed angrily at him. "I don't have to explain myself to you!"  
  
He obliged to her, making his way to exit. But he stopped in the doorframe, looking back over his shoulder at her. "You say that now, Granger," he muttered softly. "But you'll be back - they always come back." Then he was gone.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Luckily for Hermione, she only had to put up with Madame Pomfrey's incessant tutting tendencies for the rest of the day. Late that evening she was finally released from the Hospital Wing and made her way up to the Gryffindor Tower - alone.

She couldn't help but think how typical it was that Ron and Harry didn't have the decency to come down and walk with her back up. She _had_ been attacked by some wild animal - or at least that was what they thought. But apparently this was no great matter to the pair. They probably had better things to do; maybe they were meeting girls at the Astronomy Tower.

Nope. She climbed into the Common Room from the portrait hole to find them lounging in front of the fire playing Wizard's chess. Hermione's hands balled into fists when she saw this. _'Did they even notice that I was gone?' _she wondered.

She was still standing on the edge of the room, debating whether or not to go see her friends, or to just retreat up to her room. Hermione was staring absentmindedly at the two of them, when Harry looked up and noticed her.

"Hermione!" he called, his face lighting up. "Pomfrey let you out!"

Ron looked up at her then too, his own lopsided smile appearing. She couldn't help but smile back at them. It was infectious; she wanted to be mad at them - she wanted to so badly - but it just wasn't possible. Hermione made her way over towards them, grinning widely even though when she thought about it - she wasn't all that happy. She couldn't help but pretend to be cheerful. When had she perfected this charade?

She plopped herself down on the carpet beside them. As the boys went back to their game, the three exchanged small talk. Harry and Ron asked how she was feeling, what Malfoy had said to her earlier, and if she had seen him since. Soon enough however, they sunk back into silence; the boys completely immersed in their game again.

Hermione sighed quietly to herself as she looked on at the game. Watching the two of them could no longer hold her attention as it once did. She muttered something under her breath about going up to bed, but as usual neither responded and she slipped away unnoticed.

The dorm was unchanged. It felt like an eternity since she had last been there. She felt so different, yet everything else had remained the same. It was as if the world had stopped moving and she was the only thing changing. Lavender's things were still strewn about the room, but the broken shards of glass that she had caused had been cleaned up. And there it was, sitting upon her night table mocking her. That little piece of metal that had been her release, but also the source of so many problems already. She looked at it longingly, her forearm almost throbbing in desire. She didn't know what was happening to her.

She picked up the blade and twirled it around in her fingers. Taking a deep breath she prepared herself for the blessed release. Suddenly a vision of golden hair swam into view. She gasped and dropped the object, it clanging dully on the stone floor. She hastily stooped down to pick it up, before shoving it carelessly in the drawer of her night table.

_'It turns out Little-Miss-Perfect isn't so perfect after all.'_ She had to prove Malfoy wrong. These marks were nothing. They meant nothing to her and she didn't need them. She could stop whenever she wanted to. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to her. Hermione didn't want him to be able to see that she wasn't as in control as she convinced people she was.

Slipping out of her school clothes and into her night gown, she climbed into bed and pulled the hangings around. Hermione tried to will herself to fall asleep. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried not to focus on the object that she knew was sitting in the drawer just to the right of her. She gripped the sheets in tight fists to stop from reaching over and picking it up. Slowly her grip loosened as she drifted into a restless sleep.

She could feel his eyes on her as she ate her breakfast. Pale and withdrawn, Hermione had dark circle's under her eyes. The sleep she had gotten the previous night had done her no good. _It_ occupied her thoughts, _he _occupied her thoughts. And now she couldn't be rid of his presence, he wouldn't let her.

Hermione refused to look up from her bowl of porridge. It was extremely difficult to ignore him, but she couldn't let Malfoy win. She would prove him wrong. She was in control. Hermione was going insane, trying not to glance up at him. _'What harm would one look do? It isn't as if I'm obsessed with him, am I not allowed to scan the Great Hall while I eat my meals?' _she thought.

With resolve, she looked across the hall to where he sat. She was shocked to see he wasn't glaring incessantly at her; she swore she could _feel_ his gaze. He was acting as if she wasn't even there. _'I'm getting paranoid,'_ Hermione told herself as she reached to pour herself another cup of coffee, _'he's making you paranoid.'_

She still hadn't tore her eyes away from him, but he didn't seem to be affected by her gaze. Malfoy was busy eating his kippers and seemed to be oblivious to everything else that was going on in the Hall. Then she saw Zabini lean over across Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting between the two male Slytherins, and whisper in Malfoy's ear. Hermione's brow furrowed as Draco began to smirk at whatever Zabini was saying. Then she gasped, as Zabini moved away and Malfoy immediately looked across the Hall and right into her eyes.

Mortified, Hermione blushed but couldn't look away from him. She didn't know why, but it wasn't possible. Then she felt a wetness on her lap, followed by a sharp scalding sensation. Shocked, she looked down and saw the coffee overflowing from her mug and spilling out across the table. Several Gryffindors jumped as the hot fluid burned them, cascading onto several laps. Annoyed at her behaviour, Hermione pulled out her wand and with a quick muttered _'Scorgify'_ the table was clean again. She braved a quick glance towards Malfoy and saw him enveloped in his meal again. Either he hadn't noticed her little mishap, or else he was ignoring it for the time. But she knew that this wouldn't be the last time he would get to her.

Apparently Malfoy wasn't the only one out to make her life miserable; Snape was as well. During their usual Monday morning Double Potions with the Slytherins, the Potions Master decided that it would be enlightening to pair up students of different Houses. Hermione would have assumed, that with him favouring his House, that he would spare them the torture of being pair up with Gryffindors. But it seemed that the Gyffindors' anger at the pairing more than made up for this. Hermione had also assumed, that if he was going for maximum impact, he would have paired up Malfoy and Harry, but instead she found herself next to the blonde boy.

And so, that was where she was now, sitting at one of the lab tables with the 'Prince' of Slytherin, trying desperately to focus on the potion they were making instead of the hand inching up her thigh, or the insults being whispered in her ear.

"Mudblood," he muttered, moving his palm higher underneath her skirt. "Vile piece of filth." It was still moving higher. "Nasty loose tramp." His fingers were brushing the cotton of her white knickers.

She felt so powerless. It didn't matter how many times she pushed his hand away, glared at him, or snapped at him to stop it. Malfoy wouldn't leave her alone. He knew she would never say anything to make a scene, she would never admit that she couldn't protect herself from him, even when they were in a crowded classroom. But she couldn't deny how her body reacted to his touch, how every insult her muttered was making her clenched with desire. Why was her body working against her? Why would she get turned on from rude remarks?

She gulped, and tried to bat his hand away again. "Stop it, Malfoy," she hissed under her breath.

"Do you really want me to stop, Granger?" he sneered back.

"Yes," she whispered fervently. "I know you are just trying to provoke me and it won't work. Stop it before someone catches you," Hermione begged.

"The prospect of being caught just makes it that much more appealing, Mudblood, and you know it too," he retorted.

Hermione jumped as he ran a finger across her knicker-clad opening. She grabbed his forearm and gripped tightly, digging in her fingernails. She felt his flesh break beneath his fingers and saw him wince as he yanked his arm from her grasp.

The bell rang then and Hermione began to quickly gather up her things, eager to get away from the room. As she went to walk away, she turned to see Malfoy inspecting his cuts closely. As she turned and began to exit the room, she heard him speak.

"You'll be sorry, Granger."

Clenching her fists tightly in the fabric of her robes, she whirled around to face him in the now empty classroom.

"What are you going to do, Malfoy?" she demanded. "You caught me while I was vulnerable once, and believe me when I say it will not happen again. You can't hurt me."

He threw his head back and began to laugh in sadistic pleasure. "I know you better than you'd like to admit it, Granger," he said smirking and walking towards her. "You're always vulnerable, you just have a good way of hiding it."

She eyed him warily as he continued to advance on her. "That's bullocks, Malfoy, and you know it," she said, her voice a bit higher than she would have liked.

"No, _Hermione_," he drawled, delighting in making her flinch at her own name. Even her first name sounded like an insult when coming out of his mouth. "You are just a petty little girl who is trying to act like she isn't. You just put on an act of being the toughest witch at Hogwarts, but underneath it all, you are scared at how powerless you really are. You're terrified, Granger, but you are just trying to deny it."

Hermione's eyes widened at his words. "You don't know anything about me," she hissed at him. "Don't pretend to understand me." With that she turned on her heel and fled from the room. As she ran through the dungeon corridors, the echoing of his laughter reverberated off the walls and followed her through the castle. Even after she reach the silence of her room, the sound still rang in her ears, taunting her.


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

It was September 19th. Hermione heaved a great sigh. Today she wouldn't worry about Malfoy; in fact, she wouldn't worry about anything at all. Finally she was seventeen; today she was officially an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world. Today would be a great day.

She stumbled down the stairs into the Gryffindor Common room. Choruses of "Happy Birthdays" met her ears. Hermione smiled broadly, it was nice to know that her House-mates hadn't forgotten her.

Harry and Ron ambled up to her, goofy grins on their faces. "Happy Birthday, 'Mione," they said grinning, handing her two rectangular packages.

"Thank you, you really shouldn't have," Hermione said, smiling as she unwrapped the packages. But her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. _'You really shouldn't have. Books are lovely and all, but couldn't you two be creative for once?' _she thought.

Pushing the thought away, Hermione linked arms with the two boys and they made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The three of them were winding their way through the castle on their journey through the corridors of Hogwarts. It seemed that the boys felt obligated to spend time with Hermione on her birthday. They had actually accompanied her to the library for the first time all term.

Just as they passed an open window, the brown tawny owl that she had sent back to her parents a few days ago, swooped in. Clutched in it claws was a fat brown envelope accompanied by a tiny box. Hermione took it from the petite creature and stroked it behind its ears before it took flight again.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked curiously.

"It must be my parent's birthday present for me," she replied excitedly.

Not being able to contain herself, she quickly tore open the paper packaging of the tiny box. Nestled in the white tissue paper was a pair of emerald studded earrings. A tiny card read _Much Love, Mum._ She looked up at the two boys, just in time to see them share a look of disgust.

"What?" she questioned cautiously.

"No offense, Hermione," Harry started. "They're beautiful, but Slytherin colours? Are you going to actually wear them?"

She narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Of course I am what a silly question." Pulling off the backings, she quickly slipped them into her ears and gave the boys a look of defiance.

Hermione then turned her concentration to the envelope that she still held. Slowly she tore it open, and extracted the card.

_Happy Birthday, Angel. Buy yourself something pretty._

_Love,_

_Dad_

Folded into the card was an assortment of bills, adding up to 100 pounds.

"What's in there?" Ron questioned, trying to peer over her shoulder.

Hermione forced herself to smile up at them and swallow back the lump forming in her throat. "100 pounds," she croaked, "from my Dad."

Ron and Harry's eyes widened in amazement. "Wow," exclaimed Ron. "What I wouldn't do for that kind of money."

Her and Harry chuckled at him; Harry then glancing down at his watch. "It's dinner time," he announced. He and Ron began to make their way down the hall. "Are you coming, 'Mione?" he called over his shoulder.

"In a moment," she replied, smiling at Harry until the pair rounded the corner.

When they were gone, Hermione expelled a heavy sigh and slid down the wall landing on the floor with a dull thump. Her bottom lip quivered and she chewed on it desperately, hoping to quell the feeling. A few silent tears slid down her cheek. Hermione was gripping the bills tightly in her fist, crumpling and wrinkling them.

'_Can you remember the last time he gave you a real present for your birthday?' _the nasty little voice in her head piped up. _'No,'_ came the tentative answer, _'but this is enough. I know he loves me. Presents don't matter; I'm not a materialistic person.' _Hermione held her head up and willed her emotions to go away. _'If they don't matter,'_ the voice said again, _'then why are you crying? Face it, money is lovely, but a real present is more personal.'_ Hermione had to agree with this. She had no doubt her father loved her, but every birthday she waited eagerly to see what he had gotten her and every time she was disappointed with a few scribbled words and some folded bills.

She didn't want to buy herself something pretty; she wanted him to do it for her. She wanted to see that he cared enough to go out and buy her a gift. Hermione managed to get him something every year, even though it was much harder for her to remember with the infrequent trips to Hogsmeade. But he had the opportunity there for him constantly. How did he manage to overlook his only daughter?

Hermione sniffled loudly, and swiped at her nose carelessly with the back of her hand. She began to compose herself in the dusty corridor, searching her pockets fervently for a handkerchief.

A piece of white cloth waved in front of her face and Hermione started. Looking up she saw his grey eyes looking down upon her. Raising an eyebrow at the Slytherin, she cautiously took the material from him, and blotted at her eyes. Adjusting her robes, she made to stand, but Malfoy extended his hand and helped her to her feet.

Holding out the soiled piece of cloth, she went to hand it back to him. Hermione could see him wrinkle his nose at it.

"I don't want that; soiled with your filth it is," Malfoy hissed at her.

Hermione reddened slightly, turning away. "I should have known it was too good to be true," she mumbled under her breath.

"I saw you crying, Mudblood," he piped up from behind her.

Hermione whirled around in rage. "You saw nothing, Ferret," she hissed at him.

Malfoy leaned forward, his mouth next to her ear. "I know what I saw, Granger," he whispered, his breath washing over her skin. "And I know how to make it all go away." He seductively ran his tongue across the tender flesh behind her ear.

Hermione fisted the fabric of her robes in suppressed rage. "I don't need anything from you," she said defiantly.

He looked at her, his grey eyes flashing in amusement. "Just one pill, Granger. One tiny little thing and everything will be better."

He reached deep into his pocket and pulled out one of the tablets that she had seen before in the forest. Malfoy popped it into his mouth and cocked his head at her. Reaching behind Hermione's neck, he grabbed her hair and forcefully yanked her head towards him, smothering her mouth with his. He probed savagely with his tongue, pushing it into her mouth. Hermione had to desperately try to stifle a moan. She felt a tiny ball move into her mouth, his tongue pushing it deeper down her throat.

Suddenly he pulled away from her and gave Hermione a smug look. Massaging her throat, Hermione realized that he had tricked her into taking the pill. She stomped her foot in anger and glared at the Slytherin.

"How dare you!" Hermione cried. She spun on her heel and began to make her way to Gryffindor Tower. Behind her, she could hear his footsteps following her path. As Hermione ascended the second staircase on her journey, she began to laugh. The whole situation suddenly seemed hilarious to her, although she didn't know why. At the top of the stairwell, she turned around quickly and found herself inches away from Malfoy's face. Hermione desperately tried to keep a straight face and stifle her giggles as she stared into his eyes, but eventually it was too much for her and she burst into a fit of laughter.

Hermione felt as if she was floating on air. She couldn't remember what she had been doing all day – but she didn't care. Why she was walking about Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy following in her wake was unknown to her. Shouldn't she be somewhere right now? With those two friends of hers? Hermione didn't know. She just felt incredibly bubbly inside and had a strong urge to just run about in the spring sunshine and sing at the top of her lungs. Hermione had forgotten it was autumn. She couldn't not smile and laugh, everything was funny; the portraits of past Heads of Houses on the walls, the curious look the suit of armor down the hall was giving her, and especially the look of discomfort on Malfoy's face when she turned to face him.

She was bent double with laughter, hands on her knees for support. Looking up, Hermione was surprised to see Malfoy trying to hide his laughter as well. Gasping for breath, she straightened up and tried to be serious.

"What exactly is in these pills, Malfoy?" she asked, suppressing the giggles.

He eyed her warily. "What makes you think I'd tell you, Granger?"

Hermione let out a huff of exasperation and placed her hands on her hips. "Seriously, Malfoy, do you think I'm about to come some sort of drug dealer with the knowledge? I just want to know that this isn't some seriously damaging, OK?"

"Fair enough," Malfoy said casually with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's a simple Forgetfulness Potion and Cheering Potion mixed with crushed Doxy droppings; they give you the floating feeling."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Malfoy! Doxy droppings can be harmful to your brain!"

Malfoy didn't seem too perturbed over her revelation. "Granger, they're drugs; all drugs have harmful side effects when used in abundance. What did you expect?" He looked at her with a bewildered expression. "What are you doing?" Malfoy was referring to the strange way Hermione's features were twisted. It looked as if she was trying to figure some incredibly difficult Arithmancy problem but just couldn't find the answer.

Hermione's face relaxed. "I'm trying to remember whatever it is that the pill has made me forget."

He rolled his eyes at her. "The point is to not remember, you silly bint."

She was now looking up at him with a silly grin plastered on her face. "What?" Malfoy asked warily.

Hermione giggled and wobbled about slightly. She reached up and began to stroke his cheek. "You're very pretty, ferret-boy," she said in amusement.

She could her Malfoy groan as he pulled an arm around Hermione's waist to steady her. "I think it's high time you finished your fiery storming back up to your tower."

Pouting, Hermione slung her arms around his shoulders. "I don't wanna," she remarked childishly.

"You don't have a choice," Malfoy growled at her.

Hermione leaned into him, her lips just barely brushing his. "You're so cute when you're angry," she whispered.

Smiling triumphantly, Hermione heard Malfoy groan softly before he pushed her savagely against the stone wall and descended his mouth onto hers.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Hermione shivered as she felt a cool breeze brush across her bare stomach. Eyes still closed, she stretched her arms out above her head. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she didn't feel the familiarity of the head board above her. Contemplating this, she realized she couldn't feel the softness of a bed beneath her, or the silky smoothness of sheets overtop of her body.

A quiet stirring next to her caused Hermione's eyes to snap open. Her surroundings baffled her. There was no bed, no familiar hangings around her. But she could see dust covered desks, a chalkboard, and dirt encrusted old windows. There was barely any light in the room and it was enveloped in a musky, damp, old smell.

Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows. She was completely naked and had some terrible aches in her lower abdomen. Her attention was then turned to the floor beside her, where in all his naked glory, lay Draco Malfoy.

Flushing red in embarrassment, Hermione brought up her hand and covered her eyes. Her head fell back to stare at the ceiling and she had to try desperately to suppress the tears. She was so ashamed of what she knew had happened last night; especially since this time she was certain she was a willing participant.

Gingerly, she hauled herself up off the floor. But as she made to take a step away from where Malfoy lay, his hand snaked out and grabbed her ankle.

Hermione let out a squeal of surprise at the sudden contact. "Going somewhere, Granger?" he drawled sleepily.

She stiffened as he spoke. "Let go of me, Malfoy," Hermione demanded.

Malfoy didn't listen to her. Instead, he gave a sharp tug to her leg, causing Hermione to crash down onto the floor, landing hard on her bottom. Suddenly, Malfoy swung a leg over her and pushed her upper body against the ground as well, pinning her defenselessly there. She could feel him against her, his cool skin against her own burning flesh.

Malfoy leant down, so that his mouth was right next to her ear. "So it's Malfoy now then is it?" he whispered. "What happened to: Oh, Draco! Please, Draco! Harder, Draco!"

He laughed as she frantically pushed his body off of her. Malfoy allowed himself to fall aside as Hermione stumbled to her feet, panting. Wordlessly, she began to gather her clothing that was scattered about around the room. Strangely enough, her undergarments were all missing, so she was forced to dress without them; there was no way she would inquire as to their whereabouts to Malfoy.

The entire time she dressed, Hermione could see him stretching leisurely out of the corner of her eye. As she made to leave the dusty, old, abandoned room, Hermione saw him finally get to his feet lazily and begin to gather his own clothing.

She walked quickly down the length of the corridor, glancing back every few seconds over her shoulder to see if he was following her. On her third or fourth glance back, Hermione slammed into an object coming in the opposite direction from her. Sturdy hands grasped at her shoulders, holding the pair of them upright.

"Please watch where you are going, Miss Granger," a strict voice reprimanded.

Hermione gulped audibly and looked up at her Professor. "Yes, Professor McGonagall," she replied quietly.

The elder looked down her nose at the girl, evidently studying her as if something was not right. Hermione withered slightly under her gaze and began to fidget nervously with the hem of her sleeve. Finally her teacher finished the inspection and giving herself a slight shake, returned her gaze to Hermione's face.

"I was just coming to look for yourself and Mister Malfoy," she stated in a cool tone. "We have a few matters to discuss."

Hermione paled at her professor's words. She knew that they still had to conclude exactly what had happened in the Forbidden Forest that day. That was one conversation she was dreading to have. Looking up at Professor McGonagall, she saw the woman standing with her head cocked to one side, listening. When Hermione focused on the sounds about her, she could hear a faint whistling coming from down the hall. The song grew louder as footsteps began to materialize and whoever it was grew close. Looking cautiously over her shoulder, she saw Malfoy step into view. His song died away quickly as he noticed Hermione and the Deputy Headmistress standing around the bend.

"Professor," he greeted curtly, not sparing a single glance at the Gryffindor.

Malfoy made a move to continue on down the hall past where they stood. Professor McGonagall held out a hand ordering him to stop. "As I was just saying to Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy," she said to him, her lips pulled in a firm line. "You are required in my office right now to talk about certain occurrences from the other day." With that, the teacher turned on her heel and began to walk back down the hall without a glance over her shoulder. Shooting the Slytherin a dirty look, Hermione began to follow her Professor. Behind her, she could hear Malfoy doing the same, as he began to resume whistling his eerie tune.

The walk to Professor McGonagall's office seemed to take an eternity for Hermione. She had to clench her fists, fingernails making crimson crests in her palms, to stop her from turning around and screaming at the Ferret. He still hadn't ceased his whistling, and the creepy ballad was driving her mad. She couldn't understand how the Professor could stand it.

Apparently she couldn't. "Mister Malfoy, do cease that infernal racket," she called back cuttingly as they rounded the final bend. Always having to have the final word, Malfoy drew out the last note letting it fade off until they reached the door to the office.

They stood side by side, but as far apart as possible in the cramped office. Its small space was filled with overly large mahogany furniture, the smell of the wood overpowering Hermione's senses. Malfoy stood as arrogant as ever, his head tilted to the side slightly, hands in his pockets, and a bemused expression on his face. Hermione was wracked with nerves and stood shifting from foot to foot, still fiddling with the edge of her sleeves.

A quick glare from her Head of House stilled her rustling. "As you both are probably aware," the Professor started. "You have both given different, yet quite similar stories."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by the teacher's palm. "No, Miss Granger, I do not want to hear it again. Myself and the Headmaster have decided the easiest course of action is for you both to be punished," she sighed, obviously not entirely thrilled at the verdict. "Since you were both in the Forbidden Forest, you will both serve detention tonight with Professor Sprout. She has expressed the need for help weeding some of her vegetable gardens. An evening weeding the Muggle way seems a deserved punishment."

Professor McGonagall suddenly looked weary as she began to rub her temples. "You both may go," she said softly. "8 'o' clock at Greenhouse Three," she reminded them as they turned to leave.

Malfoy had reached the door first, pulling it open and gesturing for Hermione to exit ahead of him in a mocking fashion. Wrinkling her nose in distaste at him, she stormed out of the room.


End file.
